Emotional Troubles
by procol harum
Summary: Tom is having emotional troubles ha ha , making him act out more than usual. Doug at first is worry but soon shrugs it off as Tom pretending for the McQuaid case they are on. Oh crap I think I may have to continue this later... tell me your thoughts!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Emotional Troubles

**Prompt: **# 48 project

**Characters/Pairings: **Doug Penhall, Tom Hanson – starring as the ever lovable McQuaids. With tiny, subtle, undertones of slash.

**Rating: **G

**Warnings: **I say the f word in my author's note...

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Summary: **Tom is having emotional troubles(ha ha), making him act out more than usual. Doug at first is worry but soon shrugs it off as Tom pretending for the McQuaid case they are on.

**A/N: **Alright, this story is not what I had wanted it to be. First off, I was trying to have no slash and now I think Doug likes Tom. Heh. And then it was supposed to be HAPPY. Well, yeah, the angst came and bit me in the ass and wouldn't let go until I added it to my story. Knda like my dog eating my leg when I didn't give him his food fast enough. Set during the 4th season, I guess, and after DtL, at least a month after(but before Last Chance High). The 2nd last time the McQuaids went undercover, then. And I don't care if I've completely fucked up the time line, either, because we can just pretend it works )

A/N 2: And apparently I can not write or edit or read worth anything when sick lol. Thanks to andaere for pointing out I had typos. I've gone through both chapters again and fixed what I saw. See any more, please tell me )

"Tommy!" Doug called out across the chapel excitedly, although his tone – one used while undercover as Doug McQuaid – had anger seeping throughout.

Tom looked up from where he sat atop Doug's desk, legs crossed and back against the wall. He had moved Doug's desk for the sole point of having a back rest. Pink showed through in the knees of his torn and worn jeans, the fabric tight against his thighs at his legs' locked positioning. "Yeah?" he asked casually, pushing his arms out behind him and sliding off of the desk with ease. Doug couldn't help but notice when Tom's lone t-shirt rode up slightly, revealing pale flesh and a tuft of brown. It was gone as quick as it had appeared though, shirt sliding back over to cover Tom's midsection as he stood at full height, pulling his sleeveless jeans jacket from off of Doug's desk.

"You were supposed to come pick me up at home," Doug stated simply, striding closer to the younger man, his own torn jeans rubbing at the flesh underneath as each step pulled the fabric tighter against his thighs. "And it's not like you to forget something like that."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Tom asked, slightly mad at Doug for assuming he should remember every little thing. "Besides, Doug," Tom added, stepping closer to the taller man. "You never said I had to pick you up."

Doug's breath hitched in his throat as he readied to speak, the proximity between his face and Tom's own short and very much evident in Doug's mind.

"Uh Doug?" Tom asked slowly, stepping back and giving back Doug that small amount of space he needed to be able to think. "You okay? You were looking at me funny."

"No, I'm fine," Doug muttered shakily, thoughts of himself and Tom doing things that he knew were impossible flashing throughout his mind. Letting out a shaky sigh as the images slowly drifted apart like dust in the wind, he looked towards Tom carefully, afraid the younger man would be able to read his thoughts if he looked too hard into the dark brown eyes. "Just trying to remember or not if I actually told you." Doug honestly couldn't remember asking Tom to pick him up that morning and realized that he hadn't; he had thought of it, yes, but had fallen asleep before he had had the chance to call up his friend and ask about the small favour.

"Well, you didn't," Tom replied, annoyed. "I do think I woulda remembered that, Doug."

"Yeah, that's true," Doug agreed with a small smile. "So, uh, guess we're late for school, huh?"

"Yeah, kinda," Tom said, making his way through the crowded chapel towards the only entrance – and exit – to the outside world, unless you counted the fire exit. And Tom doubted he could blame being undercover as Tommy McQuaid for setting off the fire alarm for no reason other than wanting to get outside faster. Doug followed beside the younger man, laughing.

"What?" Tom questioned, pushing past a man he knew had stolen Doug's yo-yo when Fuller had first set up the chapel to accustom to such a large crowd. The man glared at Tom, but the officer only glared back, which seemed to be enough to get the guy to continue walking without any confrontation. Or maybe he had left because Doug had been standing beside him the entire time and had set his own look of fierce intimidation in the direction of the man he hadn't remembered had stolen his yo-yo.

"You said we're kinda late, Tommy. I got up at like, 6.30 to get ready and waited until 8.45 for you. When you never showed up, I figured you had bailed." At Tom's look of annoyance easily proclaiming that Doug had not once told him pick him up, Doug added quickly. "But I never did tell you. I fell asleep before I could call you."

"Are you serious?" Tom exclaimed loudly. "I was ready to just give in and say I had forgotten because I thought maybe I actually had."

Tom headed off towards the door and Doug called loudly, "I wasn't finished!"

Tom ignored his partner as he continued throughout the large crowd, the closeness of the persons making him feel too claustrophobic. He needed the fresh air and the freedom as much as Doug normally did whenever stuck in an enclosed space. And Tom wasn't even claustrophobic: he just felt like it at that moment.

Doug let out an irritated sigh before following his friend through the crowd, which seemed to have lessened in the path Tom had taken in his hurried exit. He found Tom at the bottom of the steps, leaning against the wall and staring vacantly out into the parking lot, eyes fixated on an object Doug himself could not see.

"You okay?" Doug questioned gently, taking up his own stance at the wall, the brick harshly evident through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He had left his jacket at home in the rush of getting to work faster.

"Huh?" Tom replied absentmindedly, gaze never leaving that of which only he could see.

"Tommy," Doug spoke slowly and lightly. "Look at me, alright?"

"What?" Tom questioned, confusion in his tone as he slowly turned his gaze – curious now instead of blank – towards Doug.

"You okay?" Doug repeated now that he had Tom's attention. Or at least some of it, anyways.

"Yeah, 'course I am," Tom replied, a smile forming slowly. It was fake, and Doug could see straight through the younger man's mask. Tom could tell, too, that Doug hadn't bought his lie and he sighed deeply, gaze fluttering towards the dark ground below like a butterfly, eyes following along the many cracks worn into the cement over the years. "I'm sorry, Doug," he mumbled slowly. "It's just, being in jail, it sucked, ya know?"

"Hey, don't worry about it," Doug replied cheerily. "I mean we got you out, right?"

Tom did it, without thinking. He turned quickly so that he was facing Doug and then went forwards, grabbing at the older man and burying his head in his chest, tears already spilling forth from his eyes which were once again cast with a blank stare void of emotions. His hands found loosened bits of fabric and he pulled at them hard, the closeness to his best friend giving him every bit of protection and safety he feared he had lost when thrown into the darkened cells months earlier. Doug stepped forwards, surprised at the sudden contact, and without a second thought, wrapped his arms around Tom's smaller frame, relieved at the calmness this contact seemed to give Tom.

Tom's body relaxed slightly as Doug's arms wrapped around him, surprised yet relieved that Doug had done so. Because the young officer felt safe where he was, Doug's arm wrapped tightly around him like a cocoon, keeping Tom inside and all threats outside.

Tom suddenly began to push Doug away as their situation became more clear to him, embarrassment gaining control of all of his emotions and and making him feel ashamed at showing so much weakness.

"Hey wait," Doug began as he was pushed back lightly, Tom loosening himself from the grip quickly and backing away himself. "What's wrong? Are you okay?

"Of course I'm okay," Tom snapped harshly, rubbing at his eyes harshly to rid his face of the unwanted moisture. "Now let's go already; I think we've already missed first."

"So that's that?" Doug whispered, gazing at Tom thoughtfully. "I mean, you bolt outside like your ass is on fire and then freak out like that? Damn it Tommy, you were holding on to me so hard it was like you were afraid to let go."

"I'm not scared, Doug," Tom replied harshly, tone hardened with anger. "Now can we just go? I don't need Fuller riding us because we never got to school until lunch."


	2. Chapter 2

"Mr. McQuaid," the teacher called out to the young man situated in a desk pushed against the back wall. "Could you please tell the class who the first president of the United States was?"

It was Tommy McQuaid that the question was directed towards, yet he did not reply. His brother did, though: "Uh, Dolores Fred..." Doug trailed off, leaving the rest of the name open, and began scratching his head as if he were thinking hard. "Uh, Fredton?" he added with a smirk, glancing towards Tom.

"President, Douglas," the teacher answered sharply. "Dolores, I believe, is a woman's name. Now please get your brother to pay attention."

"I can't do that," Doug replied casually, as if the fact of getting Tom's attention being impossible was a fact everybody should know.

"And why is that?" the teacher responded sharply. Her face, wrinkled over her sixty years, was scrunched slightly, skin bunched in the forehead and lips pursed together tightly. Doug had thought that that type of facial expression was only seen in cartoons: seeing it on a real woman was pretty amusing and he began to laugh. Tom looked up towards Doug as he began laughing, curious as to what was so amusing in a class he had come to think of as useless and boring. Because history was the past, and at the moment all he was worried about was the present.

"Looks like I got his attention now," Doug responded through short bursts of giggles, gazing intently at his partner.

"Hey!" Tom shouted suddenly. "I was payin' attention. We was talkin' about the first president, right?"

The teacher sent Tom a look of shock, surprised that the rugged looking teen had actually been paying attention when it had seemed like he had been ready to fall asleep.

"Yes, we were," Doug answered in response to his brother's question, taking in the same tone and manner of voice the teacher had. "And we were just wondering if you knew who he was."

"Well it ain't Dolores Fredton," Tommy muttered dryly, sending Doug a sharp look. "She was our aunt, Doug. And she died last summer."

"Yeah?" Doug muttered menacingly. "And I'm sure you know who the real president was?"

"Of course I do," Tom replied excitedly. Several students began laughing at this statement, unbelieving of the fact that _Tommy McQuaid _could actually know anything about the American presidents.

"Hey, shut up!" Doug cried out loudly, sending the classroom into silence immediately. "We'll need to hear when he he gets the answer wrong, alright? And then we can laugh!"

"Oh, they'll be laughing Douglas," Tom stated. "But it'll be at you and your idiocy."

"What idiocy?" Doug countered. "I ain't an idiot."

"I bet you twenty bucks I get the right answer."

"Mr. McQuaid!" Ms. Turner called out shrilly. "No gambling is allowed in school."

"Oh shut it teach," Tom replied rudely, glaring at the elderly woman. "Me an' my brother ain't gambling. We're simply setting a prize for the winner of this little contest we're settin' up."

"Thomas McQuaid, to the office. Right now."

"But I didn't do nothing!" Tom cried out bluntly. "Look, how about if I get this question wrong, I'll go. If I get it right, I stay."

"Mr. McQuaid," the teacher started, "Do you really think trying to place a bet with me is the wisest idea?"

"Aw come on," Tommy pleaded. "It's just a little game. I mean, you did ask me, right? Now I'm gonna answer."

"Alright, fine," the teacher replied. "Answer the question. But you'll have a trip to the office and be out twenty dollars if you are wrong, alright?"

Tommy gave the teacher his infamous smirk. "Sure thing, teach. Now," he started, sending Doug a smart-assed glare, smirking widely. "I believe that the first president of this wonderful country we find ourselves living in was..."

"Damn it, Tommy, spit it out already!" a girl near the front of the classroom called out eagerly.

"I was gettin' there, now shut it so I can answer," Tom replied bitterly, annoyed at being interrupted while so close to winning the game. "Now where was I?" he added with a smack of his gum. "Oh that's right, the first president was George Washington."

Some students began to applaud eagerly while Doug glared at his brother angrily. "That ain't right!" he called out over the cheering students. "Oh come on," he muttered as Tom stood up to take a bow.

"Alright, settle down, settle down!" the teacher called out, slightly annoyed at the interruption in her lesson, although amazed at Tom's answer, considering it was right.

"Hey! Settle down and shut up!" Tom called out from his place atop the chair. The students' claps became silent and the teacher smiled gratefully. "Alright, he answered the question right. There's no need to get excited."

"He got it right!" Doug called out, annoyed and angered – he didn't have twenty bucks to just hand over.

"Of course I did," Tom replied, settling back into a sitting position and leaning over close to whisper in Doug's ear, "I've taken history how many times now?"

Doug smacked Tom's arm angrily, muttering, "Yeah, and you're also a friggin' geek, too."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Tom called out lightly, glancing around the classroom intently. The attention of the students was now focused back upon the teacher who was talking about something Tom knew couldn't be that important.

"What?" Doug hissed.

"Don't want people knowin' that," Tom replied. "As a McQuaid I've got a certain reputation to withhold. And being a geek ain't a part of it."

"Mr. McQuaid," the teacher called out sharply. "Both of you. I let you play your little game; it would be nice if you gave your attention to my class now."

"Yeah, yeah," Tom muttered, settling back in his seat and looking towards the teacher. "We're watching, speak."

"Thank you. Now, did either of you finish your project on America's participation in the second World War?"

"Uh..." Doug replied, grinning sheepishly and looking towards Tom for help. All Tom did was give that smart-ass smirk before muttering, "Of course I did."

"And do you have it here with you?"

"Well, you see," Tom started, looking at Doug's amused expression before continuing. "It kinda got lost in the darkening abyss under my bed."

A/N. So I guess this is done now. Unless somebody wants more of that angsty Tom from chapter one. And that last bit I actually said to my math teacher. It actually isn't the greatest thing to say to a teacher when asked for homework.


End file.
